Exposure - Kelly Moran Page 0,101

problem was and taking steps to move past it.

But an incapacity to love wasn't an easy fix. Her mom had summarized her early childhood years and puzzle pieces were snapping into place. Yet how did she get from then to now, from there to here? God. How would she even recognize if she was in love?

Maybe Noah's distance was for the best. Perhaps a clean break, before he got in any deeper and she hurt him beyond repair, was the least likely path for pain. Except the hollow, aching void inside her without him was cultivating. Consuming.

Air trapped in her lungs, refusing to expel. The room blurred in a haze of tears. Hot tracks traced down her temple, absorbing into the sheets. Her insides shredded, torn apart organ by organ. She wanted to dig her nails into her chest, claw this restless, gutting sensation out of her body. It was terrible. So damn terrible, the torture. Burying her face in a blanket, she inhaled his familiar scent of cinnamon and safety. The agony only intensified.

A wayward thought struck her through the melee of emotion. A hammer at her brain.

If this was love after all, why was she fighting to fall?

Chapter Twenty-Five

Jet-lagged, Noah folded himself into the chair behind his desk and glared at all the messages. When he'd started his business, it had been out of love for the outdoors and being in the elements. Nature soothed. Took no prisoners. Never pretended it was something it wasn't. Since all the success, he'd spent more time behind a desk than out doing what he wanted. Being Hoan on occasion allowed for reprieve, but it wasn't the same. Maybe it was time to sell.

He scrubbed his hands over his face and leaned his head back. Ten days away from Raven on his recent photo shoot had done nothing to alleviate his need for her. He thought some distance would clear his head or offer up some direction. It hadn't. He still didn't know what the fuck to do.

For a decade, he'd lived in fear, had his life whittled down to a skeleton and doing little more than going through the motions of existence. The women, the cameras, his company--nothing filled the void.

And then he'd had Raven. In his bed, his home, his heart. The pain with her absence almost made him think they could just carry on as they were. Having her, in any capacity, was better than not having her at all. Except, shit. He didn't want to be a skeleton anymore.

The past ten days had felt like the reoccurring ten years of holding back. Hot beaches, hotter women, and all he wanted was Raven and home. He shook his head. His baby was his home.

It had been cowardly to leave the way he had, not calling or telling her how badly he'd missed her. As in, the whole shoot was a wash he'd missed her that fucking much. He wondered what the absence had done to her. Did she miss him even half the amount? Was she as wrecked as him?

Probably not. In the back of his mind, this had been his last ditch attempt to push her over the edge. Selfish and perhaps conniving, but it had to be done. If he didn't see something in her eyes to note a change, they had to end the relationship. He might never breathe normally again, but he couldn't keep doing this.

Dropping his forehead on the desk, he fisted his hands. When Veronica knocked on the office door, he issued his assistant away as politely as possible without moving. Whatever it was, he'd deal with it later.

"It's??e."

His head jerked up, greedy gaze landing on Raven.

If possible, her skin seemed even more pale. Or perhaps it was the shadows under her eyes playing tricks on him. Had she lost weight? He knew every curve and dip of her body, would recognize it was her under his hands even if he were blindfolded. She had dropped a few pounds. Hell, she'd been thin to begin with. She had her midnight hair up in a high ponytail, wore not a stitch of makeup, and she was biting that pouty lower lip. She wasn't dressed for work--not in her skinny jeans, purple sweater, and peacoat.

Not that he'd moved, but his body froze just the same. She looked like hell, which meant she'd been in hell. Just as he had. Christ. Was that hope sparking after all?

His cock swelled and, damn it to fucking hell, so